Time Doesn't Heal All Wounds
by Jasmin Kenobi
Summary: (submission for the STO forum's Unofficial Literary Challenge #19, prompt 1) Even with the Dominion War having been over for nearly thirty-five years now, there is still some prejudice hiding on all sides. Even on the RRW Telnor, which has the pleasure of hosting a Jem'Hadar officer. When new transfer orders come in, some old wounds may be reopened by old prejudice.


**I actually haven't written anything new in a while, so here goes my attempt to stir some creative juices. This is for Prompt #1 on the STO forum's Unofficial Literary Challenge #19: "Once in a Lifetime". The prompt says "in which one of your bridge officers is selected to serve a tour on a ship from the opposing faction", but for the purposes of this fic, I've decided to throw in a little extra here. My first STO character was a Fed-Rom and I've spent nearly two years cultivating what has become my most diverse and admittedly fun crew. And yes, I do kinda think Tovan Khev is a decent character, but I don't like that you can't really do anything but have him as first officer. I've made use of that, however. So, for the purposes of this, let's have a little fun, yes?**

 **(And also, I use the Romulan naming pattern from Diane Duane's "My Enemy, My Ally" book and the following books in that wonderful series. And if you can't tell already, I really like the Romulans, they're fun. I also know very little about the Klingon missions, as I have no interest in them, so I don't know much about the bridge crew that KDF officers are supposed to get. I have made my own up because the captain isn't exactly standard-issue, either. Other than that, feel free to ask away if there are any questions.)**

"Time Doesn't Heal All Wounds"

T'Ali i-Ashalla t'Ahvi scowled at the computer console in her Ready Room. What in the hell was Command thinking?

"Is this for real?" she asked her first officer, who just shrugged.

"According to them, this is a brilliant strategy to cultivate a stronger alliance with the Klingons," Tovan tr'Khev scoffed. Clearly their opinions were similar here.

"But sending Tan'atar? Are they trying to get one of my officers killed? If they are, Command is really going to dislike me now."

"How about just ask him? If all else fails, send him with a small cache of weapons. The Klingons will either kill him or die trying."

T'Ali sighed and tapped her comm unit.

"Lieutenant Commander Tan'atar, report to my Ready Room."

As if on cue, the Jem'Hadar officer briskly stepped in, holding a datapad.

"It appears that my timing is accurate."

T'Ali poked a finger in Tan'atar's direction as she asked Tovan, "He's good."

Tovan just chuckled and stood, "Have fun."

"Yay me."

As Tovan left and Tan'atar walked closer to the desk, T'Ali gestured for him to take a seat.

"Latest armory checks, Riov."

"Thanks. Now, I'm sure you're wondering why you're here. Never fear, I have the answer. Command wants to give you a posting as an exchange officer on a Klingon ship."

"Your odd sense of humor remains untouched despite recent strife."

"So, now for the big question: Do you want to take a potentially deadly posting or not?"

"Do I have a choice?"

T'Ali snorted softly, "The fact that I've told Command to stick their idiot ideas up their asses more than once should tell you that you do, regardless of who is pushing for this."

"Very well. I will accept."

"What? Tan'atar, are you suicidal? They'll kill you, they've never gotten along with the Federation and the fact that you're Jem'Hadar is only going to make this worse."

Tan'atar was perfectly calm as he replied, "Victory is life. If they should kill me, I am not worth the life I live now."

She stood and walked around the desk, proceeding to lean on it and look at the officer.

"As far as I'm concerned, this is your choice. And as far as you're concerned, you tell me if any of them try to kill you. I don't know what ship you'll be on, but we'll be given rendezvous orders shortly."

"You already sent confirmation."

"Of course I did. I knew you'd take this assignment, despite my resistance of it. Or perhaps in spite of that…"

"I take this assignment because it is ordered that I do. Should it become a problem, I will inform you."

"Good man. Now, off with you. Work to be done."

Tan'atar left and T'Ali returned to the bridge, glancing at a brewing argument near the science station.

"For the last time, I did not do anything to disrupt your precious experiment!"

"I saw you in there. You had absolutely no reason to be in there!"

Subcommander Hiven tr'Rejai was frantically looking around for help as Subcommander Satra t'Hrienteh and Subcommander Veril. These argument between the chief engineer and chief science officer were becoming frequent as of late. And, of course, the poor chief medical officer seemed to be generally caught in the middle.

"Problem, ladies?" T'Ali called out. Both women turned sharply and glared before resuming their argument. Oh, they were certainly bold now, but wait until she got started.

Hiven hurried over, looking unusually anxious as he said, "I was running a test in the main science lab and Veril dropped by to deliver a report about a modification to one of the biobeds that I'd asked be made and in the meantime, Satra's experiment went foul and now she thinks Veril did it because they don't like each other and what do I do?!"

The operations officer, D'Vex, scoffed, "Let them be. They'll get themselves sorted out."

T'Ali rolled her eyes, "Yeah, like I'm going to let them give me a headache. Hey, you two, knock it off, now!"

Both officers stopped this time and turned towards T'Ali. Satra was still visibly angry and a green flush had appeared on her cheeks. Veril looked indignant and ticked off. Time to defuse this.

"Satra, Veril was in there to deliver a report to Hiven. Veril, next time try not to let your temper get the better of you. Despite your beliefs, I do pay attention. Sort out your problems on your own time. You will not do it on duty and you will not do it on the bridge, do I make myself clear?"

Helmsman Jalai looked impressed as Hiven breathed a silent sigh of relief.

"Ie, Riov," Satra bit out.

"Understood," Veril replied, spinning on her heel and making for the bridge turbolift, briskly ordering it to descend to Main Engineering.

Satra returned to her console and Hiven disappeared, presumably back to Sickbay.

T'Ali sighed and flopped into her chair.

"Dear Elements, please don't let me kill them."

! #$%^&*())(*&^%$# !

Aenlyn Yirit listened as her officers debated their new arrival.

"A Jem'Hadar? It is clear the Romulans are working with the Federation against us!" Commander Keth sneered, his expression creasing the scar on his cheek.

"Oh, keep that spew to yourself, Keth. Nobody cares to hear such things, as you're always wrong," Lieutenant Tiyana scoffed, flicking a lock of black hair behind her shoulder. Keth seemed intimidated by his junior, probably because one never knew if the Orion woman had a knife in her hand or not.

"Enough. Our orders come from the High Council and will be followed. There will be no bloodshed unless you feel willing to explain to me your reasons for shedding blood. We rendezvous with the… ah, the RRW Telnor shortly. Back to work."

Aenlyn felt a glimmer of gratitude towards her Nausicaan first officer, a burly man whose name she couldn't actually pronounce without getting tongue-tied, but she just called him Bokk. The only one who could actually pronounce his name was Tiyana, but he preferred being called Bokk, because it reduced the mangling of a name he clearly hated.

Of course, Aenlyn quashed that glimmer as quickly as it appeared. Her adopted father, Ju'toQ, had taught her that such things could be used against her, due to the simple fact that she was a joined Trill. Although, Yirit thought it was completely insane, but didn't seem to mind overmuch.

"Helm, set a course for the rendezvous point. Maximum warp," Aenlyn ordered. The helmsman, a nervous little Lethean with a surprisingly sharp wit, tapped in the course heading and punched in the warp speed, instantly shooting off towards the rendezvous point and their new officer.

! #$%^&*())(*&^%$# !

Lieutenant Lhyt'tes waited at the transporter console for the debarking party. Lieutenant Pevro was silently tapping his foot as he waited. Satra and Veril were on opposite sides of the room and the rest of the senior staff was gathered and waiting for their friend and comrade.

At exactly 1100 hours, Tan'atar walked in, perfectly ready to go. He didn't generally keep much in the way of possessions, so he just had his uniform, a couple of weapons, and a deck of cards he'd grown fond of, simply by virtue of being the de facto dealer at the semi-weekly-or-whenever poker games. Commander t'Ahvi was beside him, handing him a last-minute PADD with his orders and other info for the other commander.

"Ready to go, sir?" Lhyt'tes asked, already prepping the transporter console with the coordinates.

"Yes."

Tan'atar stepped on the transporter pad and just as Lhyt'tes activated the transporter, Tovan lifted a single finger.

"Don't come back in anything but one piece, you hear me?" the first officer warned, his tone one of mock seriousness.

"I will endeavor to do so, Subcommander."

And with that, the transporter shimmered him out of sight…

! #$%^&*())(*&^%$# !

… Only to reappear on the transporter pad of a Klingon vessel. Behind the console was a burly Klingon warrior with an eyepatch. Beside him was a surprisingly blonde Trill of stocky build and tall frame. She wore armor that protected her, yet also made it obvious that she was female.

"Captain Yirit?" he asked.

"Yes. You must be Lieutenant Commander Tan'atar. You are aboard the IKS Du'tagh. I do not believe I need to explain to you how to behave," the Trill replied curtly.

Tan'atar was quite surprised that she was Trill. He had only been told her second name, which sounded rather Klingon, so he had simply assumed she was Klingon.

"My transfer orders are here, Captain," he said, holding out the PADD.

She grasped it and quickly skimmed its contents.

"This says you're a security officer on the Telent, as well as having a secondary specialization of operations. My security department is full, but I am short an operations officer. My last was unfortunately killed by a Vaadwaur attack," Yirit told him, "You start immediately."

Tan'atar nodded and asked, "May I be permitted to deposit my bag in my assigned quarters?"

"I need an ops officer now, as the current one is inept. Permission denied. The current shift has only three hours remaining. After that, you will be shown to your quarters."

"That is acceptable."

And just like that, Tan'atar decided he liked this woman. She was brisk, efficient, and wasted little time in useless chatter. She also appeared to be a capable warrior, which only served to elevate her in his eyes.

The remainder of the shift was rather quiet and full of simple duties and orienting himself to the new customs of the Klingon ship. The helmsman seemed scared of him, but Tan'atar suspected that only hid a cunning interior. More study would need to follow to be sure.

Yirit was in her Ready Room most of the time, so the crew seemed free to stare at Tan'atar with a mix of suspicion, fear, and anger in their eyes. It would take time to convince them he was worthy, but he did not feel it was worth his effort. He did not need to prove to others what he already knew, that he was worthy of serving alongside them, even for such a short time.

As the shift ended, the tactical officer, Lieutenant Tiyana, offered to lead him to his assigned quarters. With the first officer's grudging approval, they headed off. Tiyana explained how things worked on the way there.

"First, don't ever call the captain anything but 'sir'. She might stab you if you say anything else. Second, even if you do learn how to pronounce Bokk's name, don't ever use it. He prefers the nickname the captain gave him. Third, if someone wants to start a fight, let them. I can tell you're a decent fighter, so just kick their asses and move on. You're rather taciturn, so no need to gloat. Just… I don't know, glare or something. Be scary. Scare them away. Fourth, you are on the roster for secondary security personnel, so you bunk with the ground troops. I hope you can gamble, because they love to."

Tan'atar listened diligently as they neared the enlisted infantry bunks. He could already hear loud singing and raucous laughter. A Klingon male, the transporter operator from earlier, stepped out of a supply room and stopped, grinning at the newcomer.

"Fresh meat, men!" he roared. More laughter spilled into the hallway as Tiyana led Tan'atar into the main common room.

Klingons of every description and size were within, along with Gorn, Letheans, Nausicaans, Orions, and even a few other species.

"What're you looking at?" a Nausicaan sneered at Tiyana.

The Orion woman didn't even hesitate. She had a knife out and aimed for the bigger man's private area in a matter of seconds.

"Now, now, Chok, is that any way to talk to a lady?" the eyepatched Klingon officer rumbled.

The Nausicaan backed away, muttering a half-hearted apology as he did.

"You are Lieutenant Commander Tan'atar, correct?" the Klingon asked.

"Yes," Tan'atar replied simply.

"Good. I am Commander Cho'bek. These are my men. You bunk with us. Chok here will show you where you stay. Bunk sweeps are every morning at about one hour before day shift begins. They may be earlier, they may be later. You are to rise two hours before your shift starts so that you may tidy your bunk before that time. Any infractions will result in punishment for your entire bunk room. Extra punishment may be doled out by your comrades. Any questions?"

"No. I will obey."

"Good. It would be unfortunate to have to let my men have at you. You'd send a good number of them to the Infirmary before they took you down."

Tan'atar cocked his head slightly to the left, "What makes you so certain they would succeed in harming me?"

Cho'bek's laughter joined the others.

! #$%^&*())(*&^%$# !

"Do you think the Klingons are behaving?"

The random question startled Tovan as he turned towards the sudden visitor to his table in the mess hall.

T'Ali was surprisingly in civvies for once as she plopped down in a chair, a glass of kali-fal in her hand. Tovan noted that it was most likely not syntheholic and a sure indicator of their upcoming return to Mol'Rihan. Granted, he had gotten used to her tells by now. They had known each other for about a decade now.

"Are we three hours out now?" he asked. A lifted eyebrow was his only reply, as if he should have known the answer to that. He probably should have, but he didn't much care to at the moment.

"So, d'you think the Klingons are behaving? Because I don't plan on losing a good officer to a bunch of grudge-holding, trigger-happy Klingons."

"Perhaps you should lay off the alcohol before we arrive at Mol'Rihan," Tovan advised, "It would be unseemly for you to say that directly to the Klingons."

"I'm the master of unseemly."

"As I am aware."

"I mean; I hope you would be. After that one-"

Tovan held up a hand as he winced, "Didn't we agree never to speak of that again?"

"Right," T'Ali muttered before glancing at the kali-fal, "Last glass it is."

He returned to perusing reports from the Delta Quadrant as she finished the alcohol, all in silence. Tovan wasn't too worried about Tan'atar, the Jem'Hadar officer was more than capable of looking after himself. On the other hand…

"Hey, I didn't say anything!" Hiven was protesting as Satra muttered something crude. She was becoming unusually irritable lately, even towards Hiven. Tovan idly wondered if or when Satra and Veril would quit arguing for three minutes to notice that the third corner of their imagined love triangle was decidedly not interested in either, or anyone else for that matter.

"Poor man. He's got to put up with that," T'Ali muttered.

"Why are they in such foul moods?"

"Why is Satra being a special kind of nasty lately? Do you think it's that stick up her ass?"

"That seems to be the most likely of scenarios."

Tovan continued to sit in silence as he finished the reports and moved on to department status reports. T'Ali seemed content just sipping what she claimed was her last glass, but Tovan highly doubted that. Despite being several years his junior, she'd already developed something of a drinking habit that she claimed was inherited from her mother. Tovan had never bothered to point out that she had been very young when her mother died and really wouldn't know.

Flicking a glance around the room, he noted that many people seemed content to just sit and stare at the stars as they neared their new home. A few games of various natures had popped up around the place and those members of the crew who had culinary talent were busy trying to get everyone else to taste their newest creation. A flash of dark blonde hair signaled that Bohina had entered, chatting with the most recent male to brave her company. Most men tended to stay far away from the chief of security.

There was a sudden commotion as a game of khariat went in a direction no one had been expecting. Clearly, no one was expecting Thras to win, but then again, most people here doubted that Andorians were as cunning as people said. The token Orion aboard, Juril, was ecstatic that his friend had won and Decurion Ratek looked mildly amused at the whole deal.

Idly, Tovan wondered what Tan'atar was doing.

! #$%^&*())(*&^%$# !

Tan'atar was in a mild state of confusion. He'd never seen this much chaos in one place before, and he'd been in numerous battle zones.

Klingons were everywhere, interspersed with Orions, Gorn, Nausicaans, Letheans, and a few species he didn't recognize. They were all loudly carousing about something that had recently happened. Perhaps some great victory.

Captain Yirit was still in her full armor, but she was watching the chaos with a smirk. The first officer was watchfully breaking up any fights that looked like they might turn serious. Tiyana was flirting with just about anyone there, very clearly inebriated.

To Tan'atar's surprise, a young Klingon man sauntered over and stuck out a mug of bloodwine.

"If you want to serve on this ship, you must prove yourself!" he told the Jem'Hadar. Tan'atar didn't even hesitate, just took a swig of the beverage with his typical neutral face.

"It is alcohol. It is not used to prove whether one is worthy or not."

"You're right," the man sneered, "Combat is!"

Tan'atar was suddenly surrounded by the man's friends. There were four of them. Two Klingons, a Gorn, and a Nausicaan. All carried only blades, but kept them sheathed. Tan'atar noted that the leader had his blade out.

"If you wish to fight me, put the blade away. It marks you as a coward."

The leader scowled, but did as he was asked before attacking with what would have been a gut punch, had Tan'atar not sidestepped it and slammed a foot into the man's gut in return. The other four leapt into the fray. One tried to bash his head, but reared back when his arm met the Jem'Hadar cranial spines.

The leader was easily put out of commission with what Tan'atar had heard referred to as a "right hook". The Nausicaan was susceptible to a punch to the face and the Gorn wound up tossed over a table. The other two Klingons were inebriated enough to be lured into punching each other as Tan'atar slipped past and jammed his elbow into one's neck and the his knuckles into the other's throat.

The first officer appeared, mildly displeased.

"Perhaps there were less… incapacitating ways to go about that," Bokk chastised.

"They would not have ceased their attempts if I had done anything else," Tan'atar replied calmly.

"Maybe so," Yirit interjected, "But those five deserved what they got. I think they can be dealt with by the doctor. Someone can drag them to the Infirmary later. Well done, Lieutenant Commander. It seems you are as competent a fighter as your record suggests."

"My record would not be falsified."

"No. Maybe embellished."

"I would be most displeased were that the case."

"I imagine you would be. Tiyana, he's not interested. Stop pretending to be drunk."

The Orion woman scowled and moved away from her flustered target. Tan'atar noted that Bokk glanced at the man briefly before looking away. Given their similarities in appearance, he surmised they were siblings, or perhaps close cousins.

Yirit turned her attention back to Tan'atar.

"Looks like you got lucky for now. Bokk might have kicked your ass for managing to beat some of his underlings, but you seem to have done a good enough job at getting them out of his way for now that I'm sure he won't be too hard on you. Have fun, Lieutenant Commander," she offered a jaunty wave as she walked out of the mess hall, tailed by a security officer who didn't seem to notice the glares being thrown his way from the captain.

A most interesting ship, indeed. Fortunately, he only had another year before he could return to the Telnor.

! #$%^&*())(*&^%$# !

On Mol'Rihan, a gaggle of officers were sitting in a makeshift bar and discussing recent changes on their ships.

"We got a Klingon officer the other day," Elena Garson casually said as she took a swig of that awful booze she managed to tolerate.

Chaliszava zh'Thane chuckled, "I got stuck with a cranky Gorn. At least he plays tongo decently."

Noemi Idaris exchanged a look with Veren tr'Hhloal, a rather distinguished elder gentleman with an apparent affinity for strange new boozes.

Daylon Kril and Gary Williams swapped stories of their new officers as Gary's former boss in Starfleet, Sarissa t'Kaveth-Colvem, chatted with her cousin, Jarell Colvem.

T'Ali nodded, "Tan'atar got sent over to a Klingon ship. He's there for a year. I feel so bad for him, they're probably going to kill him."

"That'd be the least of his worries," Varakya pointed out. Being an officer who worked closely with the KDF, she would know. Besides, T'Ali trusted her judgement, having known her for many years.

T'Lira lifted an eyebrow as she replied, "I believe his primary concern should be the prejudice that may come with his being Jem'Hadar."

Elena sighed, "I hate to admit it, but I still can't look at him without remembering the war. Honestly, I feel like such an awful person for saying it, it's not his fault, but… history and all. 'Lira, you explain it."

"I have no better explanation," the Vulcan answered stoically.

"Anyway," T'Ali lifted her glass, "Let's toast to our new officers and the health of those who've been exchanged away against our will."

"Hear, hear!"

 **So, this is the first story I have written in a good long while, so I look forward to getting some feedback. This is also my first oneshot, but I would be willing to turn it into a two-parter if enough people want to see how things progress. I really meant to write this longer, but I ran out of ideas. Hell, I may add on a second part anyway, because the title currently doesn't make enough sense with this piece as I would like it to. So, yeah, just let me know what you think. Any and all advice would be appreciated.**


End file.
